A Home of Your Own Making
by Jessica Pendragon
Summary: In this moment they belong together and he will live a thousand lives in it for as long as he can. For Solas remembers many things, knows many things, and there is one thing above all others he is certain of: They do not have many moments left.


Solas keeps his eyes on her as they enter the Exalted Plains. They have been here before, but she did not know it at the time. He had grabbed her hand and rushed them to save his spirit friend, ignoring every time she pulled back to catch glimpses of ruins or snippets of paint. Even when he retreated after seeking revenge, he knows she did not linger in such a strange place without him. He is grateful she returned to Skyhold with haste for he has always wanted to share this experience with her. To gauge her reaction to the stolen homeland of the Dalish. Her home.

She doesn't seem to really hear Scout Harding's report and completely ignores the requisitions officer. Her feet move to rest beneath a large statue holding an empty bowl. Keela reads the small plaque and flicks her wrist, fire bursting to life within the container, before she stares into the weathered face of her long lost kin. He wants to ask of her thoughts in this moment, but stills his curious tongue for once.

The Inquisitor presses on with her companions in tow. Blackwall and Cassandra are quiet, respectful, and Solas has a new appreciation for the warriors even though he can see a tick of annoyance flutter across the Seeker's features. Keela is moving too slow for her tastes and in the wrong direction it seems.

They stop beneath the broken bridge just outside camp and her miraculous golden-green eyes look at the drawing leaping across its surface. How it has survived the ravages of time and war, Solas does not even know. Her marked hand raises as if to caress the ancient paint, but the creature is too far out of reach. Keela turns to take in the shattered, burnt landscape around them before her gaze settles upon him. He sees many things in her expression – awe, horror, anger, longing.

She is quiet as they move forward, encounter these Freemen of the Dales and ruined ramparts infested with the undead. Her magic burns hotter than normal when it sears passed to incinerate enemies. Her movements are stiff, sometimes frenzied. As they press onward towards the river, each tattered piece of her culture they pass inches her shoulders up into a tight bunch. The Inquisitor almost single handedly destroys everything else in their path and abandons them immediately as they locate a suitable campsite for the night.

After a time, he finds her on the dock with bare feet dangling just above the shivering surface. Her dark hair made darker from a bath in the river and he wonders how she can stand the chill. Water still drips from her neck and legs and he tries not to see how her shirt clings to flesh. He sits at her side, legs relaxed on top of one another while she brings lithe limbs to her chest. Solas is not sure what to say to her. His love has never been so still for her fire always burns hot and bold, but now seems to simmer on cooling coals. He expects her to rave on about the foolishness of the Dalish or to begin another war with the humans herself. But she has spent the day walking on the ground as if she wishes gravity would cease and cast her from it.

"This land is soaked in memory," he says. She has always enjoyed his stories of the Fade and perhaps they will ease her mind now. "I visited the Exalted Plains during my travels long ago and more recently, with you. I was eager to help my friend and perhaps too selfish not to share this knowledge with you. Forgive me, but this place...it is special. I did not want to experience it with you under such duress. The history called to me even during my waking hours. I dreamed for weeks in hidden places and open ruins and uncovered only the beginning layers. There is much pain and strife, but there are beautiful memories buried beneath as well. If you like, I can-"

"_No_." Her voice is dark, made harsh by emotions she's trying to strangle in her throat. "I don't want to hear a single word about this place."

"I did not mean to upset you-"

"Leave me be, Solas," she says and stands, her feet leaving heavy imprints in the sand back towards camp. She makes for her tent and if a leather flap could slam shut, it would do so as Keela storms inside. Solas lets out a sigh, hearing more worry in it than he cares to admit. He should not have kept it from her, the identity of these lands. And perhaps he should not encourage the distance between her and her people so, but when he thinks of her, when he sees the marks on her face, such righteous anger floods his being at what more she could have become if not for the invisible chains of her culture.

It is a ridiculous thought, considering all she has already accomplished, and he feels ashamed to question her so. He knows he is wrong to blindly disregard the Dalish without truly knowing them first, as well. He has no doubt she would be ruling half of Thedas in a few years if none of this had ever happened. _But it did, and you are the one who did it to her._

Solas rises and follows the map of her feet. He does not feel like companionship and flees to his own tent with a few soft words of goodnight to his allies. He only pauses to grab a wash bin and scrubs the blood and dirt from today off his pale skin. The mage settles down yet sleep does not come easy like most nights. Blackwall's deep laughter echoes outside and the fire cracks and groans. The Fade calls out to him, brushing its tendrils across his cheek, but he is too caught up in the real world to traipse amongst the memories and places long forgotten.

Eventually the plains fall silent and he thinks he must have dosed once or twice for now the fire's shadow upon his tent is gone and he can almost hear Cassandra's light snores. Something shuffles much closer and he peers down as starlight slips into his tent. His elven eyes can see her in shades of light gray and muted colors and he does not speak when she falls forward, her knees coming to rest on either side of his hips, and her small weight settles atop him.

"Ir abelas," she apologizes, voice soft. "I should not have been cross with you."

Solas' hands reach for her waist as if they have always belonged there, skipping over the exposed flesh of her legs. He pushes lustful thoughts far down when he realizes she's only wearing her smalls below and instead rubs his thumbs in comforting circles into her loose shirt. Her soul is ailing and he would be a lewd person indeed to take advantage. "Will you reveal to me the troubles of your mind, vhenan?"

"I hate them," she says after a pregnant pause. "The Dales, the Elvhen. I hate how weak they were, how they let themselves be defeated and tarnished. They let their home be taken from them _twice_and left us clinging to scrapes of a past full of failure. And we Dalish proclaim them more worthy than whatever future we could build for ourselves if we weren't so fixated on things long lost. How great could all of Elvhenan have been to be reduced to such rubble?"

He could tell her of their ancient splendor, of all the things he has seen and all the things he _remembers_, but his words might not be a balm to this wound. It has festered too long in the hearts of the elvhen and will take more than his interference alone to heal. But she is so young and already full of hurts and questions, searching for some direction to a life that pulls her every which way. If he told her the truth-_no._

"When I saw all the statues, all the paintings made with such care and love…for all their faults, the Dalish tried to find some sense and beauty in a world torn asunder. What else could they have done when those before left nothing but ash?"

Keela traces the vallaslin under her eyes. "I could have had a home here. A real one with walls and floors that stays in place. And now I-I'm not sure where I belong. I'm not sure who I am._Solas-_"

Desperate fingers reach into his tunic and pull him up to meet her. His arms wrap around tight in response and Solas can see the need in her eyes as if it were midday. He tries to ignore the closeness of her touch, but each brush against her ignites an aching spark that shoots through his body. Keela does not make it easy when her thighs squeeze tight and she arcs into his embrace so only their clothes separate them.

"I feel…I'm the First of my Dalish clan, a mage to be reckoned with. I'm the shemlen's Herald and the world's Inquisitor, but I barely understand any of it. I am too many things and nothing at all. I need…I need…"

Her current hold releases him only to have her arms circle around his neck and lips crash hot upon his own. Without his approval, a traitorous hand moves to wrap around the base of her skull and changes the angle of their kiss, bringing her closer and him farther into insanity. Fingertips slip beneath the back of his garment to scratch into his skin and it is enough to grant him a moment of clarity.

He holds her head still and moves just out of the range of her hunger. "Keela…"

"You make me feel real. _Here._ Please, emma lath," her plea is a breathy moan that weakens his resolve. She takes advantage and melds them together with even more desire than before. He shouldn't allow this, he should be stronger, but her clever tongue slips passed his defenses and he welcomes the assault with a surrendering groan. His lips leave her mouth and trail from the edge of her vallaslin and down the strong shape of her jaw. Her heartbeat gallops beneath her skin as he kisses into the valley of her collarbone. She shivers as he grazes it with his teeth and he can feel her loud appreciation rumble through her throat.

Mirth falls out of him as he pulls back, scooting from underneath her. He can't help but smile at the horrified look on her face. "You can't be serious-"

He stands and offers his assistance. "I fear we will wake the whole camp and while you may have grown accustomed to publicity, I would rather keep some things private."

She takes his hand. "But where..."

"Trust me?"

The heat in her eyes shifts to something soft but even more consuming. He wants to take back the words at such an expression for he does not truly deserve it. "Always," she says and a piece inside him feels ready to topple. He runs from it as he grabs a blanket and her warm hand and leaves the camp. Solas takes them south down the shoulder of the river and sets a languishing pace. At first Keela's grip is anxious, but the further they walk the more relaxed her hold becomes.

As they pass the liberated ramparts dotted with glowing fires, she finally lets out a sigh he thinks she must have been holding all day.

"They look like fingers," she says and he glances up at the monolithic rocks ahead.

"There are many stories about these hills drifting through the Fade. Would you like to listen to one?"

He hears only the twinkling of the river and their bare feet among the grass in response and thinks he has angered her anew. But a small, indulgent laugh leaves her throat. "Yes, I would like that."

Solas recounts a grand tale as they walk between the strange rocks. It is a yarn about hunters and giants, kings and trickery. The Dalish version is different from the original but has a wistfulness to it that he, for once, appreciates. And not for the first time does he contemplate his discomfort with her people. Perhaps it is because they remember so little, and he knows too much.

He touches a great moss covered stone as they squeeze through an opening. Beyond that is an angle of ruins that he can no longer remember the purpose of. As they slip towards the river once more a youthful nervousness creeps over him. They have reached his intended destination, but now Solas doubts his initial certainty. Some part of him hopes that their leisurely stroll has waned the fire in her, but sneaking one glance at her burning eyes dashes the idea.

He bides his time by unfurling the blanket under an arch of crumbling stone and dips down to smooth the fabric with absent hands. Solas can feel her gaze upon his skin and almost jumps as her hand clasps around his arm to drag him to his feet.

"Look at me Solas," she commands. The edges of her endless eyes shimmer as unrest wars within. "What do you see? A naïve child of the Dales? An interloper surrounded by shemlen? A tool to be used or puzzle to solve? A hero to save the world? What do you see when your wise gaze falls upon my face?"

Large hands cup her cheeks and splay across the dark marks like roots beneath her eyes. "I see a vibrant soul that weathers storms with a grace and strength beyond her years. Who molds hurts into weapons instead of cowering behind battered shields. You are passion incarnate and I would gladly burn for all time to have a meager taste. Every time I look at you, you awaken something inside me I have not felt in years."

Her fingers intertwine with his. "What? What is it?"

Solas lets his touch wander to the soft slant of her mouth. Madness takes control and moves his thumb over her top lip and Keela opens with a sigh. The quiet sound blares through his head and tries to alert his common sense. _It would be kinder in the long run_, he had said once when he was not strong enough to resist even a quick kiss. "Keela, you do not understand. I shouldn't."

"You really should," she whispers and captures his thumb between her teeth. Her tongue licks the pad of skin and he all but hisses in response. Such sweet, salacious desires rush through his body like earthquakes and threaten to break him apart. She steps closer and her grasp does not let him shirk away this time.

"If you cannot speak it then show me." Keela tilts her head back and drags his hands down the lines of her exposed neck. "Spell the words out upon my skin with your tongue and I will understand."

She takes one hand lower and his breath skips to feel the sharp bud of her breast beneath his touch. "Strum your fingers up and down my body and I will hear the song of your heart."

Her other hand releases his, reaches out and follows its companion's path down his chest this time. Her fingers leave flames in their wake and when one slips just around the edge of his trousers and grazes his skin his whole body tingles with the want, the need, of her. Keela's mouth turns up in an unrelenting smirk and he curses her, for she can be nothing but a desire demon bent on destroying him entirely. He swears he can see smoke curling from her smoldering gaze as her touch ghosts across his growing erection.

"Bury yourself inside me and I will uncover the truth of you." And then she's clutching at him, hard enough to hurt and for a moment he loses all sense of the world. When he comes back to himself, he finds he's smothering her between the cold stone of the arch, hips grinding against hers. Her treacherous hands are pinned above her head, but she is no prisoner. He is the one captured and bent to her will.

_"Please,_" she cries and he forgets why he ever thought to deny this.

They are a clash of lips and tongues desperate for the inferno within. Fast fingers unlace the leather ties of her shirt and let it slide free of shoulders to the ground. Her smalls surrender to his demands next and he wants to take a moment to gaze at her glory, but her greedy fingers have plundered into his breeches and squeeze around his shaft, making stars dance across his eyes.

He gladly returns the favor, a digit slipping through her and then inside. Her slick heat makes him groan as she gasps into his lips, his eagerness making her squirm. With urgent touches they drive each other to growing pleasures and even though he wants to take her like he's always dreamed, he can't bring himself to shake her hand away or stop his own from making her breathless. He feels like he could feel her forever this way and never grow tired of it.

While his patience stretches across time, Keela is a child of the here and now. Her embrace grows frantic, her moans turn into plaintive growls. She has waited long enough to feel him all along the length of her, to have him fill her to bursting. Fangs take his bottom lip and bite down with a force just shy of drawing blood. Solas' hands come up and slam her shoulders back into the stone, a dangerous snarl of his own issuing a warning. If he needs her to be the first to leap, then so be it. She gives him a coy, cat like grin and his stomach plummets at the sight. He watches as she takes his fingers, soaked with the scent and nectar of her, and devours them. Her tongue laps with enthusiasm and when she gives a sharp suck, he can tolerate it no more.

Keela laughs, victory assured, as he lifts her and deposits them both upon the blanket. Her smile turns smug to see the heady need in his eyes, but he has no plans to give into her demands just yet. He will see her smirk break and hear her lips beg for release. Solas settles between her legs and kisses her insolent mouth. The taste of her still lingers on her tongue and he has never known something sweeter.

He allows her to remove his tunic and relishes the feel of their warm skin together, soft and hard and _right._ When her wandering fingers reach the edge of his trousers, he sinks back out of her reach and caresses her neck, her shoulders, down over her heart. Her breasts quiver as breath lurches beneath her ribs and he is drawn to the pert flesh. He takes his time tantalizing each dark nipple as if nothing else exists. Her skin grows hot, voice whining with sensation and desperation alike. Fingers pull and push his shoulders, her desires battling, but he will not be moved to obey. To show her, he bares his teeth and bites into the soft mound of flesh. Her scream of pleasure and pain is more exquisite than any music and he lingers for a few more seconds before giving her relief. He gently kisses the mark he's made until her scampering breath begins to slow.

Lips continue their southern march down her body and he memorizes every inch with enraptured gaze and worshiping mouth. A birthmark sits above the cut of her right hip and he lavishes attention upon it. Delightful laughter mixes in with heavy whispers as she twists from his tickling caress. Solas smiles on her skin and does not know how he could love her more. His expedition trails down to the inside of her thighs, licks and nibbles on the shivering flesh.

"Solas." His name is a destitute petition as she hisses it between her clenched jaws.

He abandons the game and slips his tongue, slowly, slowly, inside her. They both moan as he tastes her like a desert nomad quenched of thirst. Keela grips at the blanket beneath her when the tip of his tongue circles her clit, stalking a trembling prey. She can't keep the twitches of pleasure from shaking her limbs and groans escape her throat without permission. It is as if she is possessed and when he pulls the sensitive nub between his teeth and draws it in, her back arches all its own like a bowstring close to snapping.

Her hands slide to his jaw and tilt it up just _so_ and the moan she lets out is long and rough as his tongue assaults her anew. Fingers slip inside and move, slow and steady and then harder, urgent. Her body ignites from the inside, waves of heat rushing up and down her skin. She cries out again and again until she can take no more. She is silent when she comes, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut as her body explodes and contracts at the same time.

Solas picks himself up and hovers over her to deposit soft pecks as she falls back to the ground. By the time he reaches her face, her eyes are clear and piercing, so alive he can see the Fade swirling in the green edges. "You are more beautiful than anything I have ever known, in the waking world or the next."

Her smile is soft, her kiss even more so as she pulls him down to her. The touch begins sweet yet grows with a slow burning until they are boiling over without even knowing it. Keela is quick, controlling as she pushes his shoulder and hooks her leg beneath him. Solas topples to the ground and she is on him faster than any predator. Nails scratch into his flesh as she conquers his trousers and throws them away.

They both are bared to the world, but there is nothing beyond their aching bodies and galloping hearts. Keela is delirious with desire as she wraps her fingers around him, tightening and stroking and drawing him higher, and Solas finds all his worries are but fleeting memories of some other man. She is his and he is hers and there the universe ends.

Keela slides her sex against his once with agonizing slowness and captures his eyes before mercilessly taking him in one powerful motion. Solas jerks and clutches at her hips, nails digging into flesh, but it only makes her moan all the louder. Her hands press into his shoulders and they collide with determined, demanding strokes. They are beyond any words now and speak only in primal harmony or the language of touch. Keela drags claws down his chest to leave red lines and his groan vibrates through them both. Her fingers flit between her folds and Keela tilts her head back with a hum as she takes his pleasure and her own. He marvels at the majesty of her, wild and free, untamed even as they claim one another.

Her motions becoming erratic and Solas can recognize the sweet undulations coming from deep in her throat, but he is not finished with her just yet. He all but throws her back to where she once reposed and captures the surprised yelp from her lips with a ravenous kiss. He's inside her before she can think, hard and harsh as their hips clash. He swallows her every breath, every cry and moan, and gorges himself on her reverences until he can no longer hold them. Solas pulls away and sits back on his heels, grabbing her legs to wrap around his waist. His fingers find her swollen clit as he buries himself in her over and over.

Keela reaches for him but he is beyond her touch, so she clutches the blanket or fistfuls of hair to try to ground herself to a world she's quickly leaving behind. He adores the way her breasts move with every thrust, how she writhes and yells out at his touch. He watches her body bend and tremble, watches as a silent scream bursts from her mouth as she unravels again. She is burning around him, hot and tight and perfect, and Solas follows her right over the edge. He has enough sense to slip from her and spill into the blanket beneath them as a torrent of electricity and thunder rushes through him.

It seems to take a blissful eternity until their breaths steady and hearts settle within their breasts. Solas collapses beside her, grabbing her skin to pull her half onto himself. Her arm latches around his glistening chest and her satisfied sigh tickles his neck. Solas kisses the top of her wet forehead before settling his chin on her raven hair. The world around them returns, saturated with the sounds of gentle night all but forgotten in their torrid embrace.

Keela speaks first, her voice mixed with heavy release and airy delight. "I am sure that memory will be etched into the Fade for all time. Someday some other fadewalker will sing its praises instead of tales of hunters and giants."

Solas chuckles into her tresses. "I believe I will have to take great pains to lock it away for no other eyes to witness. You are something I am not inclined to share although I make no lasting claims upon you."

She brings her head up, chin resting on his shoulder. Her eyes dance with such adoration that his being sings and despairs at the same time. "You really should," she repeats. "I…Solas, I don't even know how to express how you make my heart soar. There is no other I want to be with. I want you to be a part of the new home I build for myself."

He tenses next to her, fears rushing back to swallow him whole. Sins and truths threaten to drag them both away and perhaps the worst part of all- he cannot bring himself to regret what has happened though it will tear them both asunder soon enough. He is a woeful monster indeed, but in her arms tonight he can be nothing but a man. "Keela-"

"Don't. Don't be despondent and terrible right now. I am no fool. I know when the sun rises you'll wander off from me all over again and chase whatever thing clings to you like an angry barb. I don't understand it, but I will not clutch to you like a spoiled child. Tell me in your own time. But here, now, just tell me you love me and stay. Just…just let me be the one to dream."

Regardless of the tortures of the mind, her words bring a grin to his lips and a lightness to his old heart. But she is wrong - they are both fools. "I love you," he says, for it is and always will be the one truth he can share.

She nestles back into his embrace, content, and he treasures every inch of her skin, every heartbeat and breath. In this moment they belong together and he will live a thousand lives in it for as long as he can. For Solas remembers many things, knows many things, and there is one thing above all others he is certain of: They do not have many moments left.


End file.
